


A Lobster Tale

by julien (julie)



Category: due South
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-07
Updated: 1999-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Fraser has, quite unexpectedly, taken Ray to the Lake Shore Room for dinner. It takes Ray a while to work out why.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio
Kudos: 2





	A Lobster Tale

**Author's Note:**

> **First published:** 7 February 1999 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 8.

# A Lobster Tale 

♦

The Lake Shore Room… This fancy restaurant was quite wasted on the Mountie and the cop. Now, if Ray was wanting to impress a date, he’d bring her here to be awed by the ambience that reeked of ostentation, the waiters who silently shrieked a snobbish kind of class, the menu that was like a cordon bleu classic hit parade. No, on reflection, Ray changed his mind. Maybe he’d bring his Ma here for her birthday; if he wanted to impress a date, he’d find somewhere with a little more imagination and a whole lot more trendiness. And that’s how long it had been since he last dated – his thinking on the topic was completely stale…

But Fraser brought him here. It wasn’t exactly the best place for two friends to chow down and discuss their latest murder case, but apparently it was the only restaurant that Fraser knew of in Chicago… Apparently that damned reporter, that scourge of honest cops, Mackenzie King, had brought him here while she was trying to choose whether to chase the story or pursue the Mountie.

And Fraser almost fit in here, dressed in his formal uniform, scrubbed and polished and pure. Even the waiters accorded him a measure of respect.

Right now Fraser was hidden from view, as both men sat there contemplating menus that folded out almost as large as Ray’s morning paper.

‘Fraser.’

‘Yes, Ray?’ A solicitous tone, and Fraser’s menu lowered far enough to allow their gazes to meet over the top.

‘What are we doing here?’

Fraser’s eyes slid away for a moment, and Ray frowned: the falter in directness, no matter how slight, was atypical of the Mountie. After a moment he answered, ‘Enjoying each other’s company, Ray.’

‘Oh. Yeah.’ Ray offered the man a cool smile. ‘You don’t get out much, do you, Fraser?’

‘No, Ray.’ A moment of thought, and then Fraser leaned forward to confide, ‘I hope that will begin to change now, Ray.’

‘Huh,’ was Ray’s deliberately neutral reply. Still getting used to the idea of finding a best friend in his early thirties – about fifteen or twenty years too late – Ray wasn’t gonna commit to anything much just yet.

Eventually their waiter arrived to take their order, managing to make the process seem like a test that Ray naturally failed. He’d ordered steak Diane, well done, and apparently that wasn’t really good enough. Well, he wasn’t one for red meat and blood, and he refused to be ashamed about it. Fraser ordered the lobster, which the waiter seemed to consider acceptable.

Once the waiter had stalked off towards the kitchen, the two men were alone. A silence stretched. ‘God,’ Ray eventually said, ‘I suppose you want small talk now.’

‘I’m not sure…’ Fraser smiled, perfect acceptance on his face. ‘It’s not a strength of mine.’

‘So, what’s the plan? Sit here silent?’

‘That doesn’t seem to be your style, Ray.’

‘No…’

‘If you’re not interested in talking about the smaller concerns of life, then why don’t we discuss the larger questions?’

Ray boggled a little. ‘And they would be…?’

The two of them were interrupted – thankfully – by the return of the waiter with a trolley. Surely their meals couldn’t have been prepared already. If so, Ray’s steak was rare, and God-help-him he was gonna complain even if Fraser expected Ray to be on his best behaviour.

But, no – the waiter lifted a silver dome and with a flourish produced Fraser’s lobster.

Alive.

The lobster was alive! It hung there in the waiter’s right hand, waving its claws and tentacle-things at them. The creature looked quite forlorn… Ray wondered if it was true what he’d heard, that the lobster would be plunged alive into boiling water, to die and be cooked at the very same time.

Ray knew he’d blanched. He didn’t say anything, though. Fraser, being Fraser, while home in the frozen north no doubt caught, skinned, gutted and cooked his own food. Ray, the city boy, hardly even mentally linked a slab of meat with a living animal, and he was happy enough to leave the connection a vague one.

Perhaps Fraser saw his companion’s startled reaction. All he did was nod at the waiter, an urbane smile indicating his acceptance, as if he were merely checking the label on a bottle of wine. The lobster was placed back under the dome, and wheeled away to its fate.

Another silence stretched. Ray stared at his cutlery, wondering if he was still hungry. It wasn’t that he was normally so full of empathy for God’s lesser creations. He’d just been blind-sided, that was all. But this was way worse than Fraser’s mud-eating.

‘Ray,’ Fraser eventually said. ‘I wonder if I might borrow the keys to the Riviera. I think I’d like to leave my stetson there for safekeeping, after all.’

‘Don’t trust the cloakroom staff?’ Ray managed, digging for his keys.

Another smile. Of course Fraser would never state such a thing – he was never critical of others, except through the judgement of criminals that a cop exercised daily.

Fraser headed off, though he stopped to exchange a few words with the _maitre d’_. And Ray was left sitting there alone for what seemed like a very long time…

On his return, Fraser seemed a little subdued. Silence ensued. The larger questions had gotten lost in the triviality of life. Finally Fraser said, ‘This isn’t proceeding as well as I’d hoped.’

And something inside of Ray warmed again. ‘Hey, this ain’t the movies, Benny. Or, if it is, it’s an arthouse flick.’

The Mountie looked blank.

‘Everything’s kind of sordid and confused and wrong, and it’s easier to laugh at people than feel sorry for them, even though you know it’s yourself up there fumbling around.’

‘Oh.’ Fraser seemed surprised, though Ray wasn’t sure what the man had to be surprised about.

And the waiter returned with their meals. The plates were set before them and the waiter retreated with a murmured, ‘ _Bon appetit_.’

After a moment, Ray realised that his steak and Fraser’s lobster had transformed into spinach quiche and salad.

‘Vegetarian seemed a better choice tonight,’ Fraser said.

Ray grinned. ‘Yeah, OK.’

And they both happily tucked in…

♦

‘May I propose a slight detour?’ Fraser suggested as Ray reversed the Riv out of its parking space.

‘Sure.’ Ray headed down through the parking lot for the street, and then idled the Riv, waiting for directions.

‘I believe there’s a pier, along which we could walk out over Lake Michigan.’

‘Yeah…’

‘I hear the view of the city is quite delightful from out there, particularly at night.’

‘OK.’ It was a reasonably warm night, so Ray wouldn’t freeze his butt off, and frankly he had nowhere else he wanted to be, nothing else he wanted to do. Indulging the Mountie wasn’t so bad a pastime.

They were at the shoreline within a few minutes, and Ray found a park right at the end of the pier. Once they were out of the car, Fraser walked around to the rear and indicated the trunk. ‘If you’d be so kind…’

Ray cast him a suspicious look, just on principle really, and opened it up. There was a black plastic garbage bag sitting there on a few sheets of damp newspaper.

‘Thank you,’ Fraser said, taking the bag, and then walking a few steps towards the pier before waiting for Ray to catch up.

‘You know there’s a city ordinance against littering,’ Ray warned the man in a mock-severe tone as they fell into step together, boots and shoes _thunk_ -ing quite satisfactorily against the pier’s wooden planking.

‘Yes, would you like me to quote you the relevant clauses?’

Ray almost smiled at this inevitable response. ‘No, that’s fine.’

And they were silent until they reached the end of the pier. Ray leaned his elbows on the railing, and looked out across the dark waters of Lake Michigan.

‘Um, Ray…’ Fraser sounded disconcertingly uncertain. ‘I, er, took the liberty –’

Turning, Ray discovered that Fraser was rustling around in the garbage bag. A moment later, he produced the contents, waving its claws – it was, of course, the lobster.

‘You rescued him!’ Ray declared with a grin.

‘I thought we could set him or her free.’

‘In _this_ water? We might not be doing him any favours, Benny.’

‘The Lake is quite reasonable compared to the River, Ray. I believe he or she – I’m not entirely sure how to identify a crustacean’s gender – has a good chance of prospering.’

‘Well, OK.’ Keeping his distance, but feeling inexplicably happy due to this gesture from his friend, Ray watched as Fraser walked closer to the railing, and held the lobster out over the water. At the last moment, Ray cried, ‘Wait, wait!’

‘What is it, Ray?’

‘We have to name him.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You heard me.’

Fraser stepped back, lobster in hand, but he was looking at Ray with that exaggerated kind of patience that was the Mountie’s version of impatience. ‘I assure you, Ray, that it won’t make any difference to the lobster.’

‘I know that – don’t you think I know that? But we have to name him.’

‘Then what name do you suggest?’

Ray thought a moment. ‘Lorenzo. He looks kind of like my uncle, see, with all those whiskery bits…’

‘Lorenzo,’ Fraser solemnly repeated, looking the lobster right in the eye-stalk-things. ‘ _Live and be prosperous_.’

Imagine the Mountie getting something wrong! Ray snickered. ‘Don’t you mean _Live long and prosper_?’

Fraser glanced at him blankly. ‘I was quoting _Romeo and Juliet_. I am fairly sure I have the line correct, although it is almost two decades since I played the role of Romeo in the Inuvik school play. I remember that a girl played Balthasar, as we had too few –’

‘Benny! Enough.’ Ray gestured at the creature still waving forlornly in Fraser’s hand. ‘Let’s send Lorenzo on his way.’

‘Yes.’ And with no further ceremony, both men stepped up to the railing, and Fraser dropped the lobster into the water.

A splash, and then Lorenzo quickly sank from view. Ray and Fraser stood there for a few moments at the end of the pier, watching a few bubbles in the water, the lobster at liberty now in the darkness of Lake Michigan.

‘Do you think he’ll find any lobster-friends out there, Benny? Do you think he might even find a mate, and make little Lorenzos?’

‘I hope so,’ Fraser murmured, with something slightly more intense than his usual politeness.

The night settled quietly around them. Ray eventually turned around, and leaned back against the railing to look at Chicago. The towers of lights rose almost to the stars, but they seemed a long way away from out here.

Fraser turned around, too, and contemplated the city along with Ray. After a while, Fraser shifted his stance slightly. The back of his hand accidentally brushed the back of Ray’s, with a whisper of skin against skin. The Mountie never did anything accidentally… Ray finally understood.

‘Benny.’

‘Yes, Ray?’

‘This is a date, isn’t it?’

A pause so brief that it hardly existed. ‘Yes, Ray.’

‘Oh. Well. Why don’t I drive us home – your place – and you invite me in for coffee?’

‘Thank you, Ray. I would very much like to drink coffee with you.’

This was said in such an innocently appreciative manner that Ray couldn’t help but suspect irony even from the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth Mountie. Ray slid his gaze across to catch Fraser’s mouth kicking up in that wry smile of his.

Hell, there was no one else out here. The two men were to all intents and purposes alone. ‘Come here,’ said Ray.

And they kissed. Carefully, sweetly, and then a little wildly.

When they parted again, Ray stared into the man’s beautiful eyes. Breathless, he said, ‘There’s probably a city ordinance against this, too.’

‘Yes,’ Fraser said, just as breathless.

Ray’s mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Well, you can arrest me later.’

But the Mountie didn’t reply: he just leaned in close and quite happily broke the law once more.

♦


End file.
